Guileless
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: He has never been exposed to her type of sunshine and light; before her he has never believed in the existence of a silver lining. Lit.


Guileless

Summary: He has never been exposed to her type of sunshine and light; before her he has never believed in the existence of a silver lining. Lit.

Setting: Season 2-3 ish (it jumps around)

**A/N**: I think this was slightly influenced by "About a Girl" (by The Academy Is...) and my lack of focus on all things school related. (Yay, senioritis!) Anyways, erm, happy reading. It's short, and a little more angsty than sweet, but still good. Enjoy and review, all. :]

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* * *

free from guile; sincere; honest, straightforward, frank _

He guesses that when they first meet, more than anything, he is astounded by her.

He has never been exposed to her type of sunshine and light; before her he has never believed in the existence of a silver lining.

She is (almost) nauseatingly naive, with her seemingly infinite capacity to trust everyone and everything; there is nothing that she doesn't believe has a good heart or a well-intentioned soul. She wants (or maybe, just maybe, it's not about that—maybe it has nothing to do with wanting) to believe that everyone means well—that everyone, deep down inside, is just like her_. _

He is both in awe of and (slightly) disgusted by her outlook on life. (A small part of him, though, jealously wishes that he could be so open.) He guesses, mostly, he is intrigued by her sincere and unforced nature, her ingenuous blue eyes and uncanny ability to stir within him such a strong contradiction—a skill she isn't even aware of.

"Don't I look trustworthy?" _Doesn't everyone?_

He cannot answer her unasked question; he cannot tell her the truth— that she is trusting of a world that, in the end, will only hurt her. (He doesn't realize, then, that she is the only girl whose heart he actually cares about breaking.) So, instead he evades the question with a trademark smirk and silence, shoves his hands into his pockets and sets out on a halfhearted search for alcohol in her fridge, not really focusing on the beer his hand is wrapped around, but imagining, wishing, hoping that it's her hand he feels.

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* * *

honest, transparent_

In spite of everything, she is convinced and steadfast of her faith in him, insistent on letting him ride out the second (and third and fourth) chance she is offering to him. (His inner pessimist is aware that, someday, these chances will run out.)

"_I_ trust you." _Isn't that all that matters?_

It isn't that simple, he thinks. It never is. It can't be, not for him. His mere existence is one big complication and disappointment in and of itself—he couldn't be allowed to have something be this simple, this close to perfection. (This has to end in ruins; it always does.)

There is nothing he can say to counter that so he simply nods, covers her lips with his own and hopes against all that he knows that he can make her think that he is worth believing in.

(and he hopes she senses how much he wants this to work.)

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* * *

artless; ingenuous, naive, unsophisticated_

She is wondrous in the winter.

The cold air becomes her, he thinks; she is all flushed cheeks and shimmering eyes, pulling him towards her with striped gloved hands that match the hat she's pulled down carelessly over her head and she can barely even see. Jess is almost (definitely) certain that it was a moment in the snow when he realized he was in love with her- or, at least, when he was willing to admit it.

"Good things happen when it snows." _Maybe our luck will change._

"Yeah?" _I wish that were true._

"Yeah." Her smile is illuminated by the great expanse of white surrounding them and he is almost lost in the sparkle in her eyes.

He's cold in the midnight air with nothing but his well-worn jacket to cover him, but for once he allows himself to revel in the fact that in this moment, for the first time in a long time, there is nowhere else that he wants to be, that this just might be a part of that intangible "forever" thing he'd heard so much about.

(Maybe.)

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* * *

free from guile, cunning, or deceit_

"...So, you'll call me?" _Don't disappear on me; don't disappoint me like I know you can._

The question is heartrendingly hopeful and he can't look her in the eyes. He can only give her the answer she wants to hear.

(He doesn't know this, but she caught a glimpse of his duffel bag when she took the seat next to him at the back of the bus, and she bit her lip so hard to keep herself from lashing out it bled a little on the inside.)

"I'll call you." _I can't promise you anything._

He wants to believe that he isn't lying, wants to believe that his efforts have meaning, that he isn't a human vessel full of empty promises.

He wants to believe that he can do better._ Since when are you allowed to have the things that you want?_

He realizes then that before her, he has never cared about the lies that slipped so easily from his tongue, never thought twice about following through when it wasn't clear what he would gain from his deceits. He realizes then that whether he liked it or not, she has changed him.


End file.
